My Angel of Music
by Gustave Daae Y
Summary: The Phantom did not escape the gypsy's at a young age. He is still trapped. One day a little girl named Christine got trapped in the cage with him. She gave him hope which was the best and only present he had been given. He finds himself raising Christine after the tragic death of her father. He learns how to love and so does she. ExC.
1. Chapter 1: Suddenly

It had been a normal day. Torture, on the brink of insanity, waiting until I actually die from the several hundred wounds in my back. I have lived 29 years on this earth. At least I think I have, I am not really sure. I'm not sure of a lot of things like my age, where I come from and my name. I may not know where I came from but I do know where I'm going. I will be in this caravan until I die. No escape. No hope. Just a normal day.

I was laying down on the straw that was my bed when suddenly the door opened and a rush of cold wind entered. The cold didn't bother me, I was used to it now. The door soon closed. I looked up and something surprised me, it was not my abusive ringleader entering my cage. A little girl had entered my cage.

I glared at her with no remorse. She quickly turned around and desperately tried to open the door.

"That's not going to work, girl." I said cruelly, "those doors can only be opened from the outside. You're trapped in here with the devil himself."

My speech clearly did not go through to her head because she continued to try and open the cage door. It was quite annoying.

"Quiet, you pathetic infuriating creature. I have been trying to open that door for the past 20 odd years. Just quiet down before I make you quiet."

I did my job of scaring her too well: she began to sob even louder than the clanging metal. She crawled as far away from me as possible and curled herself into a ball.

My stone heart melted at her little sobs. I wondered how many times I was left alone in this cage: sobbing from pain and loneliness. How could I let this little girl feel that same pain as a demon.

"Stop crying...I'm sorry for being cruel..." I said as calm and kind as possible.

"I want my papa..." The girl sobbed. "I'm scared...everything is frightening here..."

"On that we are both agreed. This place holds horrors you can't even begin to comprehend."

She continued to sob but softer and continued to beg for her father.

"Why do you wear a bag on your head?" She asked looking up at me.

"Because I am a monster" I said as if I was commenting on the weather.

"You don't look like a monster..." She sniffed back tears, "you look like a man...those creatures out there are monsters."

"All the freaks like myself?"

"No, the others...the ones with the whips...and the evil laughter"

"You mean the gypsies?"

"I... I guess so. I asked if they knew where my papa was and they led me towards this cage. They told me he was here…"

"Yes, they are cruel aren't they?"

"I don't know about cruel, but they are scary."

"Little girl, when you get out of here, stay as far away from those men as possible. They are demons. This is a place full of demons it seems."

A gust of wind swept through the caravan. The girl shivered violently.

"It's almost sunset, girl." I said, "it will get colder very soon."

"I have to find my dad...do you know where he is?"

"I haven't left this cage for over 25 years. I have no idea, little girl."

"So what am I to do?"

I thought for a moment. It was a difficult situation.

"Well, you are stuck here until morning at least. That's when the gypsies will be back. With luck and if they're in a generous mood they will let you free. Pray your father notices you are missing, little creature."

…

Night fell quicker than normal due to winter. I don't know why I cared for the little creature, but I did. She was the first person to not be repulsed by the very sight of me. I felt obligated to shelter and protect the little mademoiselle.

The child sat in the corner closest to me but still away from me, as if she wanted me to comfort her but was still deathly afraid of me. I couldn't blame her. But as the night grew the bitter cold came and she began to look freezing.

"Not to pry, but little mademoiselle, why aren't you wearing a coat?" I asked. "Surely you must have one."

"Well..." The child's teeth chattered, "I dddont havvve a real one. I have this."

She pointed to what she was wearing over a large frock: it was clearly a man's well-worn waist coat. The vest couldn't possibly keep her warm through the night.

"Child...you'll freeze."

"I'll bbbbe ffffine."

I wasn't going to let the child meet her doom by freezing: not on my watch. I walked over to the child and sat down next to her. Carefully, I took off my tattered button-up shirt. She gasped at the sight of my scar covered torso. I gingerly wrapped the tattered scrap of clothing around the girl. I hope that that would bring some type of warmth to her.

"I can't take this, monsieur. It's all that keeps you warm." The little girl trembled, starting to take off the rag.

"I will be fine. You need to keep warm. Don't worry about me, I've survived worse."

Then she did something surprising and shocking. The little creature hugged me around the middle. All of the cold feeling left my body at the child's embrace. It took a while for my body to react, but I decided to embrace the child back. She was such a tiny, frail little thing, even for a child. She was thinner than me and I was practically a skeleton.

"What is your name, little _ange_?" I asked, still with the girl cuddled into my chest and wrapped in my arms.

"My name is Christine. Christine Daae."

"Christine." I muttered the name. It sounded beautiful.

"And what's yours?"

"I don't have a name."

"You must have a name."

"I don't. They call me things, none of them I wish to repeat in front of you, little _ange_."

"But what am I to call you?"

"Well...I guess you can call me...Erik. It's a name I picked up in Persia."

"Erik." The child tested the name out. "Erik. Thank you Erik, for your shirt. You're so warm."

The girl snuggled deeper into my chest and I felt as if my heart was about to explode. No one had held me like this before. No one was able to stay in the same room as me for more than a few minute. But here was this little child, cradled in my arms, warming herself on my skeleton frame.

I began to take a closer look at the girl. She was tinier than the average child, no doubt about that. She was covered in dirt but her face and hands were as clean as they possibly could be. Her large brown eyes and long eyelashes made her look like a fawn, in a way. Her hair was incredibly curly and the color of bronze. She was rather beautiful. No you can't call a young child that word. It's indecent. How could I describe it? Attractive? That seems almost worse.

"Christine," I said, repositioning my back to lean against the pile of straw and rags, "you are rather pretty. Do you know that?"

"Thank you Monsieur." She called me Monsieur. "That's very kind of you to say. I wish I could say the same for you but I can't see what is beneath your bag. And since its dark now, I can't really see anything at all."

She was blind in the dark. It occurred to me that she, like most of society, could not find their way in the dark. As for myself, I could see everything from the light of the moon caught on the bars of my cage to the tiny cockroaches gnawing away at the wood of the caravan car. My eyes were better in the dark than in the light. The light just hurts my eyes and makes me feel as if they are on fire. The darkness is soothing to me.

"With any luck, mademoiselle, you will never see my face." I said, repositioning the child to lay beside me, her head resting on my arm.

"Why?" The inquisitive creature asked.

"I have the face of the devil, little darling. No more talk of this subject."

She was laying on her side now, while I was on my back. Her little face buried itself into my side. Her little fingers curled by her face, touching my bare skin.

"There are so many think scars." Christine said, her little fingers exploring my skin, trailing each mark she found. "Where did you get them?"

"I would rather not talk about it."

"Was it an accident?"

I scoffed. "No...it was for entertainment."

"I don't understand, Monsieur."

"You see, little darling, people despise me for my face." I put it bluntly. "I am the devil, they believe. They like to put me in my place. Make sure I'm not on my feet for too long."

"I still don't understand."

"They beat me daily here."

I heard her gasp and look up at me.

"They do that to you?" Christine whimpered. "That's awful."

"You never do get accustomed to the pain." I signed, trying to distract myself from the stinging in my back with the warm feeling of her little hands against my side. Oh her touch was so gentle and warm! "But I deserve it. I am a monster after all."

"You don't look like a monster." The girl yawned. "And you definitely don't act like one too. You're such a gentlemen. Really you are monsieur."

The girl was sleepy. She could barely keep her eyes open.

"Rest, little darling." I said, ignoring her comment but treasuring every word she had said, "You must be exhausted. Sleep. I will keep you warm and safe. Sleep."

My voice became strange. Hypnotic. Deep. Alluring. It had a serious effect on the girl and she closed her eyes.

"Good night, Erik." Christine mumbled.

"Good night, my little Angel Christine."

The girl fell asleep before I could finish my sentence. Oh she was so cute. Her chest would rise and fall with every breathe and every content sigh. I didn't risk falling asleep in fear that the gypsy would come and take my little angel away from me.

I hated to admit this, but I was in love with this little girl. I began hoping that her father would never come for her so that she can stay with me. I never truly understood what it was like to have physical contact with another human being until now. Now that I knew what it felt like to have a beautiful little girl by my side, I never wanted her to leave.

She gave me something that I had never had before: desire to live. All of the sudden, with this little girl nestled into my arms, I had a reason to live. A reason to press forward. A reason to journey on through the night. A reason to escape this cage.

Her father would never come, I decided. I will protect the little angel Christine. Together we will escape the gypsies and start a life together. I would buy a little flat for the two of us to share. With my extensive knowledge, I will teach her how to read, do mathematics, paint, study history and architecture. She will be smarter than any man alive by the time she is 10 under my guidance. And music. Yes. I would teach this little mademoiselle how to sing and she will be the most superb singer of any age.

I would dote upon her. Dress her in lavish and fashionable dresses. Little blue and white dresses with a bow on the back with lace ruffles. Her little feet and legs covered with pure white stocking and white Sunday shoes. Her little hands covered with blue silken gloves with white lace on their rims. Her hair would be tucked under a large blue bonnet smothered in flowers, lace and ribbons. Oh she would look so lovely in an outfit like that and not in her disgusting rags that she wore now. I wished to give her everything her heart desired and I attended to do so. As soon as I got out of this cage with the little mademoiselle in my arms, I would get a job and the first thing i will buy is a doll for her. Not just any toy either, a porcelain china doll. Every girl in Paris will be jealous of his little angel. She will have everything: dolls, silks, intelligence, and beauty.

She was already so beautiful. What would come of her when she grew older? She would be the most beautiful creature in all of Paris, perhaps the world. Men would want her for themselves and I could never willingly give her away to some man. No I will keep her with me forever.

I made the plan of our future right then and there, with my little angel tucked beside me. I would use my abilities to become wealthy and lavish Christine in riches that would make a princess jealous. She would go to a private school during the day, mostly just to show off her beauty and intelligence to all of the other girls. Our house would have a lovely garden filled to the brim with roses. We would have a music room. I had a special gift for music, something I picked up in Persia, but I had been unable to play in some time. I hoped she loved singing as much as I do. And on the weekends, as soon as she got a bit older, we would see plays, ballets and operas. And she would be the most beautiful lady out of all of the aristocratic woman there and they would have no idea that she had once been a little street urchin,

For the first time in years, I fell asleep happily my mind swimming with wonderful dreams of the life that was to come with me and my Christine.


	2. Chapter 2: Say Goodbye

I woke up to a pair of cruel eyes glaring mockingly at me. I instantly recognized the unwanted presence as my gypsy master, Javert. Quickly looking around, I saw the band of gypsies and a man I had never seen before. I went into a panic.

"Release the girl demon." Javert demanded, whip in hand.

A got a new scar across my back.

"Monsieur," the gypsy spoke to a man behind him, "is this your daughter?"

"Yes." M. Daae said, relieved and a bit worried at the same time.

Little Christine started to stir and quickly awoke hearing her father's voice. Seeing her father, she squirmed out of my embrace and ran to him. I couldn't help but be saddened as the little angel left me.

"Papa." Christine said as she embraced her father.

"My little angel." Her father cooed, "Are you hurt? Where did you get this shirt?"

"I'm alright papa." Christine said innocently, "Erik wanted to make sure I was warm so he gave me his shirt."

"Erik? Who's Erik?"

Christine pointed her little finger at me, smiling innocently, not fully understanding the situation.

Christine then took off my shirt and started walking over to me before her father quickly stopped her.

"Christine," he grabbed her arm and then forced her to look at him. "Stay away from him."

"Why? He's a gentleman papa. Right Erik?"

"This is no gentleman, little girl." Javert spoke. "He kidnapped you and forced you into this cage with him."

"No he didn't." Christine said, bravely and stupidly standing up to the gypsy and his goons. "You threw me in here."

"Shut up girl. You were stolen by my finest show piece."

"I didn't steal her, Javert." I boldly stated, speaking up against my master for the first time in my pathetic life.

Another scar across my shoulder.

"Erik!" Christine yelled in fear before turning once again to the gypsy, "don't do that to him!"

"I would hush up that daughter of yours," Javert told M. Daae, "if you want a job here the little wretch needs to know how to keep her mouth shut."

"I didn't harm your daughter, M." I said, "She's telling the truth. The gypsy's forced her in here with me for fun. How could I trap her in her with me when I can't even open the door?"

Another scar.

Christine squirmed out of her father's hands and rushed over to me, putting herself in between me and my master.

"You will not hurt him." Christine looked straight into the gypsy's eyes, "he is a good person."

"He is a monster."

"He's not the monster. You are!"

I heard the whip crack before I realized what had happened. That gypsy had whipped Christine, leaving a deep mark on her arm.

I barely saw Javert raise the whip once more to harm my little Christine when I reacted. I grabbed the little mademoiselle, held her to my chest and turned towards the wall, shielding the girl, with only a split second before Javert's whip struck my back.

He beat me harder than he usually does. My mind was only on Christine. With her in mind, the pain dulled on my back. I'd rather face the pain than have this little girl face it.

She was sobbing heavily, clinging to my skeleton frame and scar covered skin. That man had hurt her terribly, I could tell.

"Stop!" M. Daae yelled, trying to come closer before Javert's goons grabbed him, forcing him in place, "stop beating that man!"

Javert didn't stop. He just kept lashing out at me. Eventually I found my strength and turned my arm out so that the whip fastened itself onto my arm before I yanked it out of Javert's hand.

I stood up, the girl still in my arms and towered over everyone in the room.

"You will not hurt Christine." I said boldly.

I walked over to M. Daae and handed him his daughter. He, not being able to carry the girl as I was, put her down and started check in her arm.

"Let's go." M. Daae spoke to his daughter before looking into my eyes, "let's leave. All of us."

He whispered the last line.

I followed the Daae's a few steps before I heard the sound of a gun being set to fire.

"Take one more step and you're all dead." Javert spoke to me but it affected everyone.

"Go." I told them. "Leave."

"I will never forget you Erik." Christine spoke through tears.

"I will inform the police of this cruelty." M. Daae spoke quietly to me, "they won't get away with keeping you in this place."

"Go monsieur."

The Daae's rapidly left the caravan barely making it outside when I heard the gunshot.

I was waiting for something. A searing pain in my stomach. Blood oozing from my chest. Something. Nothing. But I felt no pain. I wasn't in whatever afterlife I would be sent to. I was still in the caravan. I half thought he missed but then I saw M. Daae fall to the ground.

"Papa!" Christine yelled through the gypsies' laughter as she desperately tried to lift the man's weight.

Mr. Daae had his hand on his bleeding stomach. One of the worst places to get shot: fatal and painful ( **Author: Spoilers, for those who've seen the sequel, Love Never Dies, Christine gets shot in the same place.** ). The acid in your stomach seems out of the wound damaging your organ, searing you from the inside. Near impossible to operate on. The man would soon be dead.

But what would become of his daughter?

"Monsieur Erik!" Christine called to me, "Help me!"

Ignoring the fact that Javert still had a gun on him, I ran over to the girl and her injured father. I tried to perform any medical assistance I could provide before I was stopped.

"Erik." Daae spoke my name through a hushed, forced, shaken whisper, "Take my daughter and get her as far away from here as possible. I believe every word that you had said. I trust you. Take her to a woman by the name of Madam Giry."

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, I knew the woman.

"She lives at 235…"

"...Angeville lane." I finished the address and thanking whoever was in charge of life that she had not changed her address. "I am familiar with the woman. I know where to take Christine."

He gave a nod in understanding.

"Christine," He spoke even quieter than before.

"Yes papa?" the girl said through tears.

"When I am in heaven, child, I will send you the angel of music." He said this and I instantly recognized the child's tale which he was referring too. "I promise. I love you, my Christine. My little _Bourgeon rose._ "

"I love you too, papa."

"Go now." he urged me.

"I can't papa."

"Take her. He practically begged me."

"I won't leave you papa!"

"Just go now and leave me!"

I grabbed christine from under her arms and hoisted her up into my arms where she preceded to cry into my chest and beg for our return to her father. I understood why he wanted me to take her away. He didn't want his daughter to have to watch him die and most excruciating death.

I hurried through the empty streets of morning Paris. The sun had barely risen and people were still fast asleep, not wanting to get up early on a cold winter's day where the nightly snowfall had turned the world completely white. I heard the bells of Notre Dame within a few minutes. I counted how many times the bell rang. 6. 6 in the morning.

Within a few minutes I was at the home, well tendent, of the Giry's. I knocked rapidly to call attention to myself.

A little blonde girl opened the door. She screamed. It didn't bother me but Christine jolted in my arms. For a split second I thought that I was at the wrong house but Giry soon came to the door.

"Meg, how many times have I told you, do not answer this door?" Giry scolded the child. "Erik, get inside the house quickly before the police or whatever mob you started this time comes."

"I did nothing this time, Giry." I said, hastily entering the house. "You owe me a favor and I you with repay me now."

"I was wondering when this day would come. Who did you kill this time?"

"See this girl." I said, ignoring her comment, "This is Christine Daae."

"I know who she is. Her father and I are friends."

"Well her father was just shot at the gypsy fair at the edge of town."

"Dear lord…"

"I need you to contact the police this instant and do anything in your power to make sure those gypsy vermin don't find me or this child."

"I'll leave this instant." Giry said, fetching her winter coat and heading out the door, "Meg, show the gentlemen and the girl to the spare room."

"Ok mom." Meg looked a bit skeptical but knew better than to defy her mom.

Meg showed us to the spare room which was a sitting room lodged into the back of the house with only a curtain as a door. The room was small and only had a couch, a lounge chair and a small rounded table. I placed the crying girl onto the couch. Laying her head gently on the throw pillow that was there. Giry would handle the girl's father: I had to fix Christine's arm.

I quickly got a towel, some bandages, soap and a bowl of water and came back to Christine.

"I'm going to fix your arm, Christine." I said, gently taking her arm. "This will sting a bit."

I gingerly place the soapy, wet rag onto the cut. The cut from the whip was horrendous. It trailed from her elbow and snaked around to her wrist, cutting a deep crevasse in her flawless, plump arm. It seemed deeper than most of my cuts.

"Ow...that hurts." Christine tried to pull her arm away but I held it firmly in place.

"Please Christine." I almost pleaded with the girl, the thought of hurting her painful to my heart, "I don't want to hurt you but I have to do this. It's for your own good. Please hold still. It will hurt less."

I tried to clean out the wound as quickly and effectively as humanly possible. A few minutes later, her arm was wrapped up and on the road of healing.

"Can I do your cuts?" Christine asked, deeply concerned. "They must hurt an awful lot. I would like to help you."

"No, no Christine." I assured her. "My cuts don't hurt as much as yours did. I'll be fine."

This girl was an angel. No one had ever offered to help me in such a way without me having to act superior to get them to do my bidding.

"Monsieur Erik." Christine's voice trembled.

"Yes, my little mademoiselle?"

"Is my papa going to be alright?"

How could I tell this little darling that her father was probably dead? It would break her heart which I couldn't bare to do to such a little angel. I'd rather die myself than ever hurt the little girl who was the first one to embrace me.

"I don't know, little Christine." I said, lying through my teeth, "But I promise you that you will always be taken care of."

No answer.

All we could do was wait and hope.

…

Giry wasn't back at the house until late at night. Meg tried to stay as far away from me as possible which I was used to. Little Christine fell asleep after a few hours. I remained awake, just sitting on the soft, worn chair, waiting for Giry to come home. As I waited, I found a few pieces of paper and began composing music.

"You're back I see." I said as Giry came into the room.

"You are so lucky that the opera is off season at the moment."

"What has become of the girl's father?"

"Dead. I was able to get the police to arrest the gypsies for manslaughter and explained that I would be taking care of the girl which was a whole lot of paperwork."

"I don't care about the gypsies' fate. What about the girl's father?"

"He was taken to the hospital but died before arriving. He's being buried in 2 days at Perros."

"So the girl is now an orphan."

"I believe you knew the outcome from the beginning. Now how did this start."

I told her the brief story of how I met the young Miss Daae and she held on to every word.

"So you love the girl?"

"Yes I do. I want to make sure she is well cared for."

"I'm assuming you have a plan."

"Of course madam. Which you have a key role in." I held up the score that I had written on the spare pieces of paper I found. "Take this score to some cheap theater and sell it. With that money I need a dress for Christine and a shirt and pants for me. Make sure she has a coat as well. Make it blue."

"Alright. Fine. I owe you big time."

"Yes you do madam. I got you your job in the brief moments of my freedom before those gypsies found me in that sewer. Now it's time to repay me. I will compose music and you will sell it under an unanimous name. Understand?"

"Completely. I am to assume that most of your profits will go towards that girl?"

"That is my business. Just do as you are told."

"Fine. I'll sell that composition tomorrow. In a few weeks the opera opens."

"And by that time Paris will be buzzing with gossip on who the mysterious composer of the newest opera is."


	3. Chapter 3:Give what you can give

Giry soon went to sleep but I stayed up to heal my back in the best way possible. I went into the bathroom to take a bath. The bathroom was plain and run down but it was better than anything I've had before so it would do. It did have a large mirror giving me complete access on what my horrendous body.

At some point, the right side of my face was the only disgusting part of my body. No longer. My body was covered in thousands of lumpy scars. It was as if my deformity had spread to the rest of my body.

Not being able to stand the sight of myself, I quickly lowered myself into the tub, letting the cool water heal and comfort my deformed skin. After enjoy the water for a few minutes, I grabbed a towel and began to scrub my body clean. It was difficult and painful: my body was awfully sensitive around my scars which were pretty much all around my body.

After a long time of cleaning, I removed myself from the bath as clean as I could possibly be. The same could not about the water. The water could barely be recognized as water fore it was filled with dirt and blood to make a disgusting color of reddish brown. I stared at the water as I slipped back on my disgusting pair of pants.

As always, I destroyed something pure, clean and good. In attempt to to clean my unclean-able skin, I destroyed something that did no wrong. I had to wonder if the same would happen to my Christine. Would I destroy her like I destroy everything else?

Coming out of the bathroom, I was still contemplating my decision on keeping the child. I loved her but I could quite possibly destroy her. I sat down on the chair and stayed within my own mind, mulling it over.

…

Apparently, I fell asleep at some point and was woken up by Giry around noon.

"Wake up, Monsieur de Fantóme."

"So the rumors continue."

"People believe what they want to believe. You left quite an impression in the few months you lived in the sewer below the opera. People still believe in the Phantom."

"Did you do what I said, Giry?" I said ignoring her

She threw a brown parcel at me in response. I opened it to find clean clothes and a leather white mask for me and a simple but pretty, light blue dress for Christine. There was also a thick dark blue coat, a little bigger than Christine's size but it would last her a long time.

"And here's the rest of the money for that composition."

She handed me a decent size of money, enough to buy groceries for the week.

I looked over at the couch expecting to see Christine there, but she was not.

"Where's Christine?"

"Outside with Meg. They're playing in the snow."

"Tell her to come inside this instant. I will not have that girl outside without a coat."

"She doesn't know. Just warning you. You might want to tell her while she's sitting down."

"Go get the girl."

As Giry went to fetch Christine as I dressed in the clean clothes. It felt wonderful being in something that wasn't covered in blood. I had barely put on the leather white mask when Christine came in. She was smiling but I could tell she was freezing cold.

"Christine. I bought you a few things."

I pointed to the pile of clothes. She gasped.

"They're so pretty."

"Go put them on."

I left the room and Christine change into her new outfit. I thought about how I was going to handle the situation. I for one, while feeling terrible for the girl, thought it was a bittersweet gift from fate that her father had been murdered. Yes, I know that that sounds awful to say, but it was true. I was fated to be with Christine. I would raise her. But I was pretty sure that telling a young girl that her father had been murdered and that it's a good thing because a creepy masked man was now able to care for her was such a good idea.

Especially if I told her all of my plans for her which, outloud, sounded creepy and disturbing. To be honest with myself, I was already planning to marry the girl. Love came quick with me. I had never loved something before and I wanted her to be by my side always. Always. Of course by the time she reaches the marrying age, about 17-21, I would be an old man. Being about 29 at the moment I would be in my 40's by the time I would be able to marry her. It was almost better this way. We would have a few simple years of marriage before I would die and then she can go of, as a wealthy young woman, and marry someone else if she wished.

For the time being I would just focus on raising the girl. I would forget my plans for the time being.

The problem still remained: how do I break the poor girl's heart by telling her that her father was no more?

"What do you think, monsieur Erik?" A sweet, precious voice cooed.

I turned to see a little curly haired angel wearing a light blue dress standing in front of me. She was beautiful. Blue suited her well. The dress had large sleeves and a large ribbon around the middle. There were many white petticoats beneath the main fabric. Her little black mary jane shoes shown the reflection of herself they were so clean. Her chocolate curls were now neatly brushed and pulled out of her face with a white bow. Her winter coat was a deep navy blue with cute little tassels on the edges.

"You look wonderful, little _ange_."

"Thank you, monsieur." She said, blushing. "I've never had such a beautiful dress. And this coat is so warm."

"No need for a thank you, young mademoiselle. Just go outside and have fun."

It is a wonderful thing to watch a young child play in the snow. While most saw snow as something that could kill, children saw it as beauty and fun. It was rather fascinating to me. I always hated snow: it's cold touch and unforgiving nature was not something I enjoyed in a cage. But looking at Christine playing made me rethink my opinion. When well covered up and inside, snow was rather beautiful. The world blanketed in white. Snowflakes falling like fairy dust onto Christine's long eyelashes. The sunlight sparkling against the landscape. It was beautiful.

I put off telling her the truth for most of the day, all while getting dirty looks from Madame Giry.

"You can't just pretend nothing happened. You have to tell her at some point." she would whisper to me as I prepared dinner that night.

"I can if it means that the young girl can enjoy her first day with her under my care."

But of course, brief moments of happiness never last. Eventually the sun began to set and I would have to tell the girl what has happened.

I made a vow to myself that I would not tell her until she asked me about it. I didn't want to be the one to bring up the horrid and depressing subject. But alas it was unavoidable.

I was putting Christine to bed when she finally brought up her father…

"Monsieur...you are so kind…" She said, her precious little voice like a church bell's chime.

"I wish to make you happy, little _ange."_

"I hate to ask...I feel like I already know the answer…" Her large eyes filled with large, wet tears. "But...is...is my father in heaven?"

I stared at the floor for a short while, unable to look at the girl with her eyes filled with such sadness and loneliness, and thought. I had prepared what I would say to her in this situation, but in that moment I had forgotten all of it.

"Yes, child." I said, still staring at the floor. "Your father is dead. I am so sorry."

Oh how she weeped! I couldn't bare to stand her sadness! It was my duty to make her smile and be merry but her tears were unbearable. Oh my little Christine...how I hated breaking your heart in such a way.

"Hush…" I tried to make my voice steady, for I was crying as well, as I took the girl into my arms,. "I know it must be hard...you are sad...and lost...and confused. But I will keep you safe...I will keep you close...just keep looking for happiness and sunlight...rain makes the flowers grow, you know. Beauty and light will come out of this. I promise."

I spent the night holding the young girl as she cried as she cried into my chest. I did the best I could to comfort the young child. I told her stories. Sang to her. Held her close. I did all that I could to. I gave what I could give to the young girl: I gave her all the love that I could offer.


	4. Chapter 4: Niece

Angel of music chapter 4

Gustave Daae's funeral came quickly. It was early morning around dawn at Perros. Madame Giry had handled the arrangements of the ceremony so all I had to do was show up with my little darling in hand.

It was only Christine, Meg, Madame Giry and a priest at the short burial. I was there but a little ways away from where they were, hidden between the lifeless statues.

Christine looked horrid in black. I had made her a dress for the solemn occasion and I lavished it with ribbons and lace but nothing could make a crying girl look beautiful. As soon as the service was over I will take that dress and hide it so that she will never have to wear it again. I much preferred her in white or blue or even gold, but she could not wear such cheery colors at a funeral.

Never again should she hide within black folds of fabric. Only I would wear such a dark color.

After a few hours the service and burial, we headed back to the tiny apartment that was our temporary home. I took Christine a back way in order to avoid the possibility of someone seeing me on the street. While Giry had bought me a mask, I despised it entirely. It made my deformity hurt and burn beyond what was healthy. So instead of wearing the dreaded costume piece, I was wearing some gauze wrapped around my head in order to hide it. My hair was utterly terrible. At some point it had been black, but the years of trauma and stress led to my hair being more grey than black. As soon as I was able to I would buy a wig to hide my grey hair and a mask that would make myself look like the most attractive man alive.

While I didn't necessarily care what the rest of the world thought of my appearance, I did want Christine to find me a bit attractive. She would no doubt grow into a most beautiful woman and she should have a decent looking husband.

The rest of the day was spent indoors.

Christine was lying on her couch in a state of despairing grief. Her eyes glistened with tears. As I held her hand, while she was awake and while she was asleep, I wondered just how long it would take until she smiled again.

…

The next few weeks passed by quickly. The days were all the same though I couldn't say it was boring.

The first week of Christine and I living there was spent with countless tears and the annoying Meg asking her mother when we were to leave every chance she got.

I despised that girl. Meg was about 9, almost 3 years older than my darling Christine. She was blonde and had blue eyes. While she would no doubt grow up to be known as beautiful, I did not find the creature or what she would become attractive at all. She focused too much on outer beauty. While I did find beauty important, I preferred Christine's heart of gold.

Within that first week, I wrote several cheap sounding compositions which Giry sold for a fair profit. I saved most of the money; fore I had a future intent for it. After a little while of Giry's complaints against me, I gave her a good sum of money just to keep her away.

I was growing a bit famous, those few weeks. The theaters had started publishing brief performances of music whose composer is unknown. It sent the spectators into a buzz on who this mysterious composer was.

After a week of grief, I started to educate Christine. It surprised me to learn that she couldn't even read let alone read music. While it was a setback, it was rather enjoyable to help her read.

"Once again, Christine."

"Many...and...many...a...eh...year...ah...ah...ago." She stammered the poem.

Meg laughed, knowing how to read but not grateful for the skill, and I shot her a deadly glare.

"Slowly, Christine." I reminded her, "do not make a single sound until you have the word in your mind. Again."

"Many and many a year ago." She said with long pauses between each and every word, "in a kingdom by the sea."

Music was Christine's, and my, favorite part of the day. She knew quite a lot about music from her late father, who was a violinist. She knew her scales, proper breathing techniques and had incredible range for a young girl. Training her voice was the highlight of my day. Her golden throat sounded like winter silver bells through a snow covered forest. It was hard to believe the girl was facing crippling depression with such a sweet, delightful and innocent voice. Her voice took us both away to a wondrous realm of music and is too beautiful to describe with words. If I had access to a piano to accompany her singing, the angel would weep because of the beauty of our spirits and souls combining in a beautiful melody.

The same could not be said for the little Giry. She focused on dance because her mother was the ballet mistress at the opera. As soon as Meg turned 15, she would start performing in the operas as a ballerina and a chorus girl thanks to her mother's position. Giry also intended for Christine to perform their as well but I would never allow it.

I had lived in the opera house for a brief year when I was a young child, about 8 or 9, before the gypsies found me and returned me to my cage. What I found there was music and beauty, which I embraced, but also horror. Long hours, the ballerina's practiced and faced endless attention from the stage hands. Of course some girls refused the vile men, but most rather enjoyed their company and attention. I would most definitely not allow my little Christine near those men. The costumes weren't acceptable either. I would never let my Christine to be displayed in such a way. She deserves much more than a being mere chorus girl in a scandalous outfit.

But I allowed Giry to have her delusional dreams and let her teach Christine to dance. Christine was surprisingly good at dancing, but nowhere near the standard that Giry expected of her.

It soon came to my mind that Giry and I were both handling Christine's father's death in the same way: distracting the girl from the pain by never allowing her time to dwell on it.

Almost a month had passed between my escape and the time I decided to take Christine on a walk. It shames me to know that a simple thing like going to the market caused mass panic in my head. But it was time Christine and I joined the world.

I dressed myself in an expensive black suit, black fedora and thick black coat. I hid my deformity behind my usual neatly wrapped gauze. If anyone asked about it, I would say it was a burn that the doctor had told me to cover up. But I rather doubted that I would talk to anyone on this trip.

I looked incredibly different than what I had a month ago. I was no longer the pathetic man cowering like a wounded animal in a cage. I was a man. Mysterious and uneasy, but I was at least human now.

Christine was dressed in her usual blue dress and coat. I was rather proud of her in keeping her outfit so neat this past month. Most children (including Meg) would ruin such a pretty thing within minutes. But she kept all that I gave her clean and looking like new. No matter, I was planning on spoiling her today. As it was my first time in public after gaining my freedom, I would be able to pick out things myself and not have to deal with the things that Giry bought with my salary.

"Where are we going, monsieur?" Christine said, almost running in the snow to keep up with my leisurely stroll. She was such a tiny thing.

"Out shopping and maybe a walk around the lake."

We walked a few blocks through the snow until we reached the center of the city. Everyone was bustling and walking around in utter chaos. It was easy for Christine and I to disappear amongst the oblivious shoppers.

I was unable to take Christine's hand: I was far too tall and she was far too short for our hands to touch. I didn't think of this problem before hand, not believing such a problem would occur, but i began to see the seriousness of the problem when the mass of people swept Christine away and out of my sight.

My heart race quickened. I had lost her in the crowd and had no telling where she was. I called her name, trying to get a response. It didn't work.

"Christine!" I yelled, calling unwanted attention to myself, "Christine! Where are you!"

After a few minutes, with my heart frantically pounding against my chest, I saw a little girl dressed in blue leaning up against a store window staring into the store.

"Ah Christine." I signed in relief and walked over to the curly haired girl.

She looked up at me. Her large brown eyes looked a bit fearful.

"Sorry, Erik. I got lost. I thought it would be best to wait her."

"You did nothing wrong, little one. But we can't have you getting lost again."

I bent down, picked up the little mademoiselle and took her in my arms. She was so light. It was like carrying a rag doll.

Looking into the store she had stood by, I saw it was a toy store. Numerous families with young children made up the occupants of the store. For a moment, I foolishly thought that it was rather odd for the store to be packed until I realized that it was the beginning of winter which meant that Christmas was soon.

I had never celebrated the holiday myself. It's rather hard to be joyful leaving in a cage. But the day usually meant no one was at the fair which meant less pain for me. I never saw the importance of such a pointless holiday: it was just an excuse to be joyful over nothing. But, now I had an excuse to get something nice for my darling, so I now loved the pointless holiday.

"Isn't she pretty?" Christine asked me.

"Who?" I asked her, jolting back to reality.

"The doll."

She pointed one hand at a china doll in the toy window. It was rather pretty and no doubt rather expensive. The families in their couldn't possibly afford such a trinket. It was probably just there to lure in customers.

"It is beautiful." I said, but in my mind I thought that Christine was more beautiful than the trinket.

As I did my shopping (which included buying a black wig for myself so that I could relieve myself of the fedora) I saw that Christine's eyes kept wandering back to the toy store. Not being a fool, I knew how much she wanted the doll. And I had every intent of getting it for her.

I took Christine to a dress shop a few stores away from the toy store. I wanted to get a better dress for my little angel. While the numerous ladies pined up fabric against Christine in order to make a beautiful dress of gold, white and blue, I left briefly to the toy store.

Walking into it, I saw chaos. Toys and children everywhere. Parents trying to purcase items while trying to control their kids. The chaos was a bit entertaining to watch but frustrating to be a part of. As expected though, when someone saw a large man cloaked in black whose face was half covered, they kept their distance. I easily made my way to the counter.

"How much is the doll in the window." I looked down at the young woman behind the counter.

"500 francs." (That's about 100 dollars our time) The girl said. "I've had about 20 families ask that today. You like the first one that can afford it."

"Wrap up the doll and bring it here." I said, showing her a 500 franc note.

She did what I asked and I left the store with a large hatbox object in my hand and about a day's worth of wages out of my pocket.

I came back to the dress shop to find my little Christine in a stunning long sleeved white dress, freckled with blue and gold flowers on the skirt. She hadn't even realized I had left which was perfect.

The woman who was assisting us took the dress once Christine had removed it and wrapped it up in a slim white box.

As I paid the woman at the counter, she tried to have a conversation with me.

"She's such a charming little girl." The woman said as I counted out franc notes from my wallet, "But I noticed that there is a large cut on her arm."

"If you are suggesting that I hurt my little darling I swear…"

"No no no, monsieur." the woman said, but I still knew that she was questioning my integrity, "I was just…"

"It would be wise of you to not pry in my affairs. There are plenty of other stores I could go to."

"I meant no harm, monsieur. I was just concerned for your daughter."

"She is not my daughter, Mademoiselle. She is my cousin's daughter."

"Oh I thought that she was…"

"I know perfectly well of what you thought my relationship to the girl was. But I consider her my niece." I was growing tired of this conversation, but it was essential to tell the gossiping woman how I am related to Christine so she can spread the gossip and rumors about me. It would save me the trouble of having to explain it to everyone. "Her mother died in childbirth and her father died recently when he was attacked by those gypsies that left town recently and unexpectedly so I hear. The girl was an orphan and I took her in. End of story. Now if you please, I wish to purchase those two bonnets that are behind you along with the dress."

She packed up the 3 articles of clothing into boxes much like the box the china doll was in, I handed her the franc notes and she handed the boxes to me.

"Come, Christine." I called the child to my side and she quickly obeyed.

I looked like a circus act as I walked down the streets balancing numerous boxes on my shoulders and under my arm. Christine, being the little angel she is, asked to take two boxes from me to carry. After much debate in my head, I handed her two of the lighter ones.

"Thank you so so much, monsieur." Christine said. "The dress is beautiful."

"You have been through much, little child." I said as we reached our temporary home. "You should enjoy only the best from now on."

"You are an angel, monsieur." Christine's cheeks flushed red. "You are so kind to me and I have done anything kind to you. You always buy me beautiful things. And teaching me how to read. And how to sing."

"You have done more for me than you know." I told her as I opened the door to the apartment, "You've given me light in my darkness. I shall do the same to you. I give you my word."


	5. Chapter 5: Walks

Christine and I made a habit out of leaving the small apartment an hour before sunset to take a walk across the city and visit the lake that surrounds Notre dame in all its glory. On these walks, I wouldn't hold Christine's hand. As much as I wanted to take her small china doll hand into my own, I was far too tall and she was far too small. She would either hastily walk beside me to keep up with my leisurely stroll or she would be on my hip. That sounded wrong.

We would often meet other people on these walks. The first few nights, they tended to avoid us which I rather enjoyed. But soon their curiosity won over and they began to approach me.

The first one to approach us was a young woman, about 21 I would say, who say down beside us on a park bench next to a children's playground.

"Lovely evening, isn't it monsieur?" The woman asked me.

"It's tolerable, I suppose." Was my only response.

I had no intention of continuing this useless banter. It seemed rather pointless to me. However, the woman did not seem to share my views.

"You two seem to be new to the city. I've only seen you these last few days. What are your names?"

"My name is Christine." My little angel said. I was half tempted to scold her for speaking to the woman but I could never do that to her.

"Aren't you a pretty little girl, Christine?" The woman said.

"Thank you, madam."

"Please. None of this 'madam' nonsense. Call me Nicolette."

If I had listened to my instincts, I would have gotten off of that bench and away from that woman. But I didn't because Christine seemed to like the social interaction.

Nicolette proceeded to talk to Christine, who was sitting in between the two of us, about useless topics. Christine's favorite color. Song. Hobbies. All sorts of nonsense that I had little interest of hearing because I already knew the information.

Eventually, a little boy, a little older than Christine's age by the looks of it, came over to us.

"Nicole!" The boy tugged on the woman's skirt. "You promised that we would go home soon..."

The boy then saw my little Christine and started blushing down to the roots of his black hair. My face was growing red as well...but for a very different reason.

"Hi Lorenzo." Nicolette said. "This is Christine and her father."

I didn't feel like correcting her.

"Um...hi Christine." Lorenzo stammered, his face still flushing red.

"Hi Lorenzo."

"Call me Ren."

"Ok. Hi Ren." Christine said cheerily.

"How about you two go play while the grownups talk. Is that alright monsieur?"

I did not like the fact that this woman was going to remove my Christine from my side to go spend time with the little brat and I was going to tell her off but then…

"Can I?" Christine asked me, her large brown eyes tugging at my heartstrings. "I promise I won't get my dress dirty."

"Only for a few minutes. And stay where I can see you."

"Thank you!"

I hated watching my little darling run off with the boy.

"My cousin seems to get along with Christine. Pardon me, but I never got your name."

"M. Younifi." I said bluntly, not looking her in the eye.

She had come closer to me when Christine had left but I didn't realize that until now.

"Why are you wearing bandages on your face?"

"An accident while I was boiling water burned my face horribly." I lied easily. "I have to wear these for a while."

"I see that you don't have a wedding band on. Not to pry, but are you married."

"No. I am not married at the moment and I have little intent to marry any time soon."

"What happened to the girl's mother?"

"Died."

"Oh I am so sorry for you. It must be awful."

"Not really. I never knew the woman."

It was rather entertaining watching the woman's slow mind piece together the information.

"Oh Christine's adopted!" She laughed as if the matter of the girl being an orphan was humorous somehow. "And all this time I thought she was your daughter. I should have none. You two share no resemblance what so ever. I just thought..."

"I knew perfectly well of what you thought." My eyes were glued to the stop where Christine was. She and the boy seemed to found a deep interest in a snowball fight which I silently disapproved of.

"She seems like a sweet little girl."

"She is a gift from heaven: a little angel." I replied.

"You must really love her."

"More than life itself."

"You are really good with her. Do you get along well with little kids?"

"I'm not sure. I have no intention of adopting anymore. My little darling is the only one in my life at the moment."

"How sweet. Does the girl ever miss her mother?"

"She's never really said. I believe her mother died in childbirth. Her father, my cousin, died recently and I took her in."

"Must be rather awful, not having a mother in your life at all. She must get lonely."

"She'll be fine."

The woman began batting her eyelashes and tossing her light blonde hair around. She was way too close to me for my comfort but I had run out of park bench to move to.

"Do you like opera?" She asked.

"As a matter of, I love music."

"Have you heard about this mysterious new composer?" Nicolette, I believe her name was, said, "He's been writing music and selling it under a unanimous name."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. The world is abuzz with who it is. The opera house released in a newspaper a few days ago that they want him to compose the music for the Masque ball they have every New Year's Eve."

"How...interesting."

"I will be at the ball. Will I be seeing you there?"

"No."

The girl clearly thought I was a wealthy aristocrat by my expensive clothing and mannerisms. She was obviously well off as well. Probably the daughter of a merchant or similar. I did intend to go to a Masquerade ball at some point. Maybe in a few years when my plan succeeds.

"Why not?"

"I didn't receive an invitation and honestly I have no interest in such an event."

That was a lie. From the limited time I spent in the opera house, I saw the party take place. Everyone in elegant costumes and masks: a place where I could blend it.

"I have to go. My father owns the Opera House."

It was at that time when I realized that I had lost sight of Christine. My heartbeat hastened and I stood up immediately.

"What's wrong?" the infuriatingly curious girl questioned.

"I've lost sight of my Christine."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. They probably aren't in any danger."

"Excuse me, mademoiselle, but I am very much worried and you should be as well." I spat at her irresponsible behavior. "Now if you will excuse me, girl, I must go find her and take her home. It's far too cold to be out here anyways."

It didn't take too long to locate my little angel. She had wandered off, following that boy who was so clearly enamored by her. Without any word from me, I scoped her up and began carrying her back home.

"Don't you ever disobey me again, Christine." I said, sternly, looking her straight in the eye, "I told you to stay where I could see you. I will not tolerate disobedience."

"I'm sorry." Christine looked down, afraid to meet my eyes. "I thought that you could still see me. I didn't realize how far I had gone."

"I will have trouble trusting you if you run off. Don't do that again. Do you understand me?"

She nodded.

I sighed. It was impossible to stay angry at the girl for long. She was just so perfect. I could forgive her of this one mistake. I was angry at myself more than anyone else.

"So...did you have fun?" I said, breaking the tension.

"Yes I did. Ren is a lot of fun. But I think he was really cold."

"Why would you say that?"

"His face was bright red. Like he had just buried his head in the snow or something."

Oh sweet, little, innocent Christine. Stay this way forever.

Once home, I sent Christine to go take a bath while I prepared dinner. It occurred to me that Christmas was just 2 days away. Of course, having prepared for the event already, I didn't give it much thought. No. My mind was focused on different waltzes that would work marvelously for a Masquerade ball.


	6. Chapter 6: Taken

Chapter 6

The holidays were rather pleasant. Destroyed most of my savings, but pleasant. My little darling woke me up early that morning, which was rather frustrating because I had just begun sleeping like a normal man would. But if I woke up to see her beautiful little face and those large fawn-like brown eyes every morning, I wouldn't complain.

"Merry Christmas, Erik!" The little girl smiled from ear to ear.

"Merry Christmas, darling." I mumbled, rather tired.

"Come on, Christine!" the annoying blonde shouted as she stuck her head into our room. "Time to open presents!"

Christine hugged me before following Meg down the hall to the main sitting room of the small apartment. I had a feeling that one hug was going to be my Christmas present from my Christine. But that was more than enough to make me smile.

Throwing off my blanket, I stood up and went to the closest. I had bought many gifts for my Christine, mostly clothes and other fine things like that, but the main prize was still hidden away. I pulled out the large box from its hiding place on the top shelf. It was wrapped in blue paper with a gold ribbon crossing over the sides of it tied into a bow on top. From the same hiding place, I pulled out the hat box that contained the gift I had for the blonde. A gift I just intended to give to keep her mother silent for a while.

I placed the box on Christine's couch that she currently called her bed and then took the other gift and went to the sitting to. Meg was almost done with opening her presents but Christine had not yet started to open her gifts that laid beneath the small evergreen.

"Christine. Aren't you going to open your presents?" I asked the girl, sitting down beside her.

"I was just waiting for you to come. It would be rude to open them without you being here so I could thank you." Christine's cheeks flushed red.

"Well I'm here. Go on, darling."

I rather enjoyed watching Christine's face light up at each gift. Meg had more gifts to unwrap, but nothing could compare with the quality of the gifts that I got my darling. Within 15 minutes I watch my darling unwrap a beautiful dress, new shoes, a new coat (this one silver with fur lining the inside), a china tea set, a blue bonnet, and a few stuffed animals. With each gift unwrapped, I received thousands of hugs and 'thank you's which I loved more than life itself.

At some point, I saw Meg look over at Christine with a look that clearly showed jealousy. This would be the best time to give Meg the gift I had for her.

"Christine, could you do something for me?"

"Of course, Erik. Anything."

"I need you to give this to Meg." I held up the box. "Tell her it's from the both of us. Ok?"

"Ok."

I carefully placed the box into Christine's arms and watched her walk over to the jealous blonde. My sweet, little, innocent Christine knew nothing of jealousy so approaching Meg was no problem for her.

"Here Meg." Christine said with a smile as she handed her the hat box. "This is from Erik. Merry Christmas."

Meg quickly opened it to see the pale pink bonnet that was covered in lace and ribbons. Meg's face lit up, though I really didn't care what the girl thought.

"It's beautiful!" Meg said as she tried it on.

Giry, seeing the ordeal, looked Erik directly in the eyes and smiled lightly. She then mouthed the words 'thank you' though I did nothing in response.

I had one last gift to give and with the little blonde now distracted, I could easily give it without fear. I hurried back to my room to grab the doll. I returned to find Christine doing something that shocked me.

"Meg. I have something for you." Christine said, hiding something behind her back. "It's not as pretty as a bonnet...but I want to show how much I care about you."

Christine then held up one of the stuffed animals I had given her only moments before. It was a stuffed panda bear larger than Christine was wide.

"I know that pandas are your favorite animal and that you've always wanted to see a real one." Christine said, handing the toy to Meg. "I think this is as close as you can get to seeing a real one. I thought that you should have it. You don't have a lot of toys and it's not fair that I have more than you."

"Christine...I couldn't." Meg said, truly touched by the act of kindness.

"Yes you can. Please take it?"

Meg happily took the soft toy from Christine's arms and held it close to her chest.

"Oh he's so cute!" Meg said, clearly loving her new toy. "Thank you Christine!"

The girl then hugged my Christine and then went away to show her mother.

I was impressed with the heart of gold my Christine possessed. I had no problem with spoiling such a pure soul. I could give her the entire world yet she would gladly give it all away in order to make someone else smile.

"Christine. Come here." I called her.

She obeyed.

"That was a very sweet thing that you did for Meg."

"I just wanted her to have the doll. I know how much she loves stuffed animals. Especially pandas. I'm sorry that I gave it away. I did appreciate the gift from you but I know Meg would have loved it more than I ever could."

"I'm not angry at you Christine. I could never be angry at you. But I do want to make it up for losing a toy."

I handed her the neatly wrapped box, being as gentle as possible.

"This is the last present, my darling. I hope you like it."

Christine looked into my eyes, a bit confused but happy nevertheless.

She sat down on the floor and carefully unwrapped the box, careful to not rip the paper. She gingerly slid the lid off. Them moved the protective paper away from the item. What she saw made her mouth drop. A beautiful china doll with brunette hair hidden in a bonnet donning a blue dress and white stockings.

"She's beautiful." Christine said, taking the doll out of the box and cradling it in her arms. "How could I ever thank you?"

"Just take care of her, ok? She's your responsibility."

"Don't worry. I will!" Christine said, placing the doll gently back in its box. She then wrapped her arms around my neck and held me tight. I returned the embrace.

I spent the rest of the day watching Christine and Meg playing with their new toys and preparing Christmas dinner with Giry. It was rather entertaining watching Christine play mother to her new doll. I had a sneaking suspicion that she would become an excellent mother.

The day passed quickly and soon dinner was served. After that, hot chocolate and then we were all off to bed.

The next few days, Giry had to go to the opera house to prepare for the masquerade ball. I handed her the score that I had written for such an occasion and told her to sell it to the managers. She, feeling indebted for my kindness towards her daughter, did so without question. The managers believed the story of Giry being the middleman between the mysterious composer who wished to remain anonymous and happily accepted the score.

The ball, as told to me by that pesky Nicolette, was the grandest of all the ones she had attended and the music was breathtaking. I used this forced acquaintanceship to my advantage by asking if the opera house would ever consider taking an opera by the mysterious composer. She of course would pass on the news to her father. Within a week after New Year, it was announced that the opera house would like to do a gala with music entirely written by the mysterious composer. While the concert was certainly not as glamorous as an opera, it was a start.

I started writing fabulous arias and concert pieces that same day. By the next day, I had another large sum of money in my pockets.

Things were going according to plan. The opera house would be opening come March, which was only a week away. My composing abilities were securing a large amount of money for me and my young child. And every day, I would spend endless days with the one person who made my life worth it.

However, life is always longing to give you happiness just to take it away.

"What do you mean you are taking Christine to live in the Opera House?" I asked Giry, furiously. "I am the one who will be taking care of her, not you."

"Quiet down or you will wake them." Giry scolded. "As for Christine. You are not her father and I can't morally allow you to keep her in this house. I live in the dormitories during the spring, summer and fall and only return to this house every few weeks. You can't possibly expect me to believe that you will take good care of Christine while Meg and I are gone."

"She is my responsibility, Giry. You will not take her away from me." I stated boldly. "I love her more than life itself."

"That is what concerns me."

"You believe that I will take advantage of a child?!" I yelled my fury. "I assure you, Madame, that I am completely honorable!"

"I don't trust you around Christine. That is final. She will be living in the dormitories of the Opera House with Meg and I. Don't worry, Erik. She will be fine. Maybe being away from her can clear your mind of her and you can focus on your music."

She walked away, leaving me furious.

There was no I would let my Christine live in that Opera House with all its vile and scum.

Sadly, I lost that argument time and time again, Giry refusing to give me any ground. Soon the dreaded day when my darling would be taken away from me came.

"Why can't I stay with Erik?" Christine asked Giry and they were walking to the carriage that would take them to the Opera House.

"Because you need to stay with me. Now say good bye."

Christine came back to the door where I was and hugged me around the middle.

"I will miss you, Erik." Christine said, her face buried into my stomach, her tears creating a wet spot on my shirt.

"I will miss you too, my little darling." I said, bending down to embrace her as well. "Do you have everything packed up?"

"Yes."

"Is your doll, Aria, safe?"

"Yes. Meg has her right now and as soon as I get in the carriage I will hold her the entire way there. Aria's going to miss you.

"And I will miss her." I played the game of pretending the doll was alive with my little darling, one of her favorite things to play. "Now promise me...promise me you won't forget me."

"I will never forget you, Erik."

"I will never stop thinking about you Christine. Promise me you will stay safe?"

"I will."

"Do everything that Giry says."

"I will."

"Think of me."

"I will."

"Come on, Christine." Giry called the girl, "We will be late."

"You'd better go." I said looking down at the floor, trying to hide the silent tears flowing from my eyes.

"Good bye, Erik." Christine had tears in eyes as well. "I will miss you."

"Good bye, my angel." I said, my throat becoming choked up.

Christine then ran over to Giry who placed her in the carriage. Christine waved to me from the window until it was out of sight. I waved to her until she was long gone.

My heart seemed to die. For days I didn't eat or sleep. I spent most of the time just staring at the door, waiting for Christine to walk back in, like a dog anxiously waiting for its master to return home. But she never did. Giry wouldn't be coming back to the house for a while. Now that I was here, I was in charge of cleaning and taking care of the place making visits to her home unnecessary. It would be a life time before I saw my darling again. The days blurred together and in agony I waited.

After a few weeks of barely eating and waiting, my heart grew weary. I decided to try writing music again but found my creativity as alive as my heart.

"It's not fair!" I screamed to everything and nothing. "She was my angel and now you take her away from me? Not just her, but my music! My desire to live! Everything! It's all gone because she is no longer beside me!"

Inspiration comes in many forms. For the past few months, Christine had been my inspiration leading to soft, sweet and innocent melodies. But I began drawing from a new source of inspiration: hatred, anger and bloodlust. Music once again filled my mind, but it was no longer music for my little girl. No. It was dark, frightening and full of revenge and hatred.

I began writing it immediately. It would be my finest work yet. A dark opera. An opera about a Angel being a gift to a Devil. The Devil would fall in love with his new prize but it would be striped of him leading to a dark and twisted revenge on God and his angels until his darling was right back beside him.

It would be glorious.


	7. Chapter 7: The Sewer

I needed a piano.

I needed my Christine.

I needed to do something.

Being alone was driving me mad. Of course, I did enjoy parts of it. The silence was most welcome in my mind. However, after 3 weeks of stilling in silence, I had grown tired of it.

I missed my little darling. I wanted to hear her laugh. See her smile. Dote on her every waking moment. I would have given anything to just see her cry as she had done so many times at night. The poor girl suffered from tragic nightmares. And when she woke in the night, screaming and in tears, I would hold her close and assure her. Oh I would give anything to have that back.

A thought occurred to me one day. I was becoming desperate. I needed to be near my angel. I needed to hear her sweet little voice and be able to teach her like I was doing before. The thought came to me as a sick joke of sorts, but I soon began to consider it: just move into the opera.

A ridiculous thought, so it seemed, to move back into the sewers just to be close to the girl. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

"I would live in that cavern I used to live in." I was talking to myself, a rather unfortunate habit I picked up in my crippling loneliness. "Then I could watch her from those passages within the walls. There's also that piano I have down there that I could use to write my opera."

So within a few hours, I had packed up my belongings into a black bag and moved into the sewers beneath the opera house.

Everything was as I remembered it. The organ on one wall. The piano on the other. My gorgeous bed in the shape of a majestic black swan that I had assembled out of boredom. My desk was still littered with old sheet music. The blood stain from when the gypsies found me and beat me harder than they had ever done before was still there.

Ah home.

Not wanting to waste any time, I threw my by belongings down on the bed (which let out a bunch of dust) and I raced back up the dark passageway to locate Christine.

It was past midnight. I expected the opera to be silent as a graveyard but it was as loud and festive as a wedding celebration. Everywhere I looked, someone was rehearsing. The chorus sang loud ballads. The ballerinas were repeating the same steps over and over again. Even the stagehands were going over the changing of the different sets.

To my horror, I found Giry off in the corner of the theater instructing Meg and Christine on proper dance technique. My Christine should be in bed at this hour.

Oh that Giry will hear from me about this.

Not wishing to make myself known to them just yet, I watched and waited. Eventually, Giry took the two girls back to the Opera House dormitories. The two girls had small beds shoved off into the corner of the room. Their belongings were hidden beneath their small beds in hopes that no unwanted stage hand who was looking for spare change would wander in and see their trunks.

The sight made me furious. My Christine should be treated like a princess and here she was in some damp, dusty room filled with scandalous dancers who would often entertain the stage hands.

This was no place for a child.

Well a cage wasn't a good place for a child either. Or a sewer…Or a cage…Or Persia…

I watched Christine prepare for bed and snuggle into her thin bed sheets. Meg soon followed after her. I then watched those stupid dancers to drink enough alcohol to make them pass out which, to no surprise, took very little time.

I didn't want to call attention to myself. I just wanted to watch her. But fate loves playing with me.

"Papa...papa…"Christine said as she tossed and turned frantically. "Papa...don't leave...Erik...please come back…"

Christine said my name. She was calling for me. Of course she also called for her late father, which I expected, but I will take what I can get.

"Christine…"I whispered, trying to lull her back to sweet dreams. "Christine it's alright…"

"Erik...Erik...my papa…"She said still asleep, tears streaming down her face.

"You're safe, Christine."

Christine continued to cry. Since I was unable to take her into my embrace to comfort her, I felt hopeless in the situation. Christine was too good to cry the way she was. Then, a thought occurred to me.

I began to sing.

It was a soft and sweet lullaby, one that Christine had actually taught me. It was a Swedish song that her father used to sing to her.

To my surprise, it seemed to work. Her tears stopped and I swear I saw a little smile creep across her lips.

And so it continued for weeks, months even. I rather enjoyed living in the sewer: one of my best homes. Every once in a while, I watched the Opera House perform my arias and concert pieces every few weeks which was rather entertaining. Most of my time was spent watching over my Christine: dying her tear; singing her to sleep. I wished with all my heart to take her into my arms and hold her close. But I was unable to.

Weeks passed. My compositions became more and more popular every day. And every day I would work more and more on my opera in the time when Giry was watching my Christine. I was still furious at Giry for taking my darling Christine away from me. And my opera accurately reflected these feelings.

I loved my little Christine. She was perfect: beautiful outside and in. In a few years, she would be a perfect little wife that I would pamper and spoil with everything a fine young woman would want. With such beauty and grace and that heavenly voice that she possessed, I thought I had fallen in love as much as I could with her. I was proven wrong.

"What are you talking about, Christine?"

"I'm telling you, Meg." my little darling was saying, "I hear music at night. I know it's the angel of music my father promised me."

"Are you sure it's an angel?" Meg said, "I heard rumors from the other older girls. They hear whispers from no one in the hallways. Items keep disappearing from the stage. They say it's the Phantom of the Opera. Maybe he's the one who's been singing to you."

"No." Christine said, innocently sure of herself, "My angel's voice is sweet and loving. Almost familiar. He's no Phantom."

She called me an Angel. Her angel of music. My heart was sent into a panic. I felt myself falling in love with the girl all over again.

Giry, of course, ruined everything as she always does.

"I know you're here, Erik." Giry said, alone in a corridor one night. "Show yourself."

"Pesky woman, leave the Phantom alone." I told her, making my voice echo across the walls.

"Of course monsieur 'Phantom' because I am just your puppet, correct."

"Right you are, Madame. Now do what I say and leave me be."

"I will leave you alone if you leave the rest of the opera house alone. You're scaring the manager's half to death."

"The managers are staying in business because of the rumors revolving around me. Composer or ghost: people are fascinated with me. I see no harm in a few pranks and whispers through the halls."

Little did I know that my decision to stay would result in the death of two stagehands, a 10 year man hunt and my own hands strangling my Christine.


	8. Chapter 8: Buisness

Chapter 8

The year passed on slowly. Before my very eyes, Christine turned 7: a year older. On her birthday I simply left a simple charm bracelet on her cot and a note to inform her that it was a gift for her from the Angel of Music.

I felt bad for tricking the girl into believing that I was her angel, but it was the only way I could get close to her under these circumstances.

Within the year, my opera was finished and performed. It was a marvelous event. Christine, of course, was much too young to play a role in the opera, so I had to endure less than worthy singers perform my work. The public loved every moment of the opera, dark and twisted as it was. And, being the mysterious composer, was paid an exceedingly good amount.

Knowing that music wouldn't give me enough money to fulfil my plans, I made an investment. I bought a textile factory.

The thing was in a horrid state when I bought it. The manager wanted the thing off of his hands because of the high injury toll.

"Everything is in perfect condition." The manager told me as we walked the premise of the factory. "All new equipment: everything's up to date. It will be a fine investment. I hate to have to get rid of it but, if you make me a good enough offer."

"You are quite charming." I said, my voice calm. "But just because I have never owned a factory, sir, does not mean you can pull a wall over my eyes. Those machines are at least two decades old and have been well worn. Your workers consist of young woman and children meaning you are too cheap to pay full wages and want to use social class, or in this case lack-of, to justify the low pay. The fabrics are made from thick thread to save time weaving but make the cloth is uneven and heavy for fabric that is supposed to be airy and light. Not to mention the workers work long into the night, often without proper lighting which explains why the weaving is unacceptable."

The plump businessman just stared at me with his mouth open.

"It appears I am write." I said, knowing that I won the battle. "You want this place off of your hands. While, considering the state of things, you should be giving me money to control the place: I'm feeling generous. I am sure that this number is adequate?"

I handed him an envelope full of franc notes.

"That will do." The man said.

"Good. Now get out of my facility."

That very day, I gathered the staff together. All were women and children, as was the custom for most factories.

"Good morning, ladies and children. I would say 'gentlemen' as well but there is an apparent lack-of." I spoke to the workers as if I had done this a thousand times before. "As you can see, there has been a change of ownership. I am now your employer."

The meeting went on for quite some time. In brief, I made a few changes.

The first one on the list was safety. During the tour I had witnessed a little girl get her hair caught in one of the gears of one of the machines. I had to react quickly by taking out my knife and cutting off her bronze locks before any damage could be done to her body. That was surely never to happen again. The work hours were shortened to be from dawn to dusk with a break for lunch and two more 10 minute breaks at ten and two.

Then there was the subject of payment. I knew the wages for a common man and that was the wages that the ladies in the factory would receive. For the children, anyone under the age of 13, I paid them half the amount of an adult male. I did not feel any guilt about this because under the new safety rules I had enlisted ensured easier, but still necessary, work for the younger workers.

I didn't want women or children working in my facility: it was a man's job to provide for his wife and children and not the other way around. But I couldn't just fire them. That would be sending them to the gutters. While the world showed no compassion to me, I would not become the monster they said I was.

Things improved in the factory. The better hours produced better textiles which, in return, raised the amount of money made. The number of injuries decreased to almost zero. I soon began accepting male workers into the facility. This let some of their wives and children resign from the factory. Of course the facility was still mostly women, there were some husbands and wives working at my factory which ensured some needed time to visit and talk with each other which was unheard of in this world.

Needless to say, I was becoming well liked and very wealthy.

"You have no idea what this means to me." A young woman with short brunette hair said. "Me? A foreman?"

"Yes." I said, handing her her wages, "I won't be spending as time in this factory and I need a manager. You work the hardest of my workers and know more about the facility than myself. I trust you with running things while I'm gone. Of course I still will be making unexpected but regular visits to ensure everything is the way I want it."

"Of course. Everything will be perfect. But why are you leaving?"

"I wish to spend more time with my niece. I haven't seen her in some time and she is very dear to me."

As expected, the factory thrived even after I had left it in the care of another.

I had a bigger project to tackle and one that I would much rather spend my time and energy.

Teaching Christine to sing.

I still lived in the sewer, despite my overflowing wallet. Every night I would visit Christine in the small chapel in the Opera House and give her lessons.

"Open your jaw wider if you wish to hit that last note." I told the 7 year old..

Christine did as I commanded but still was unable to sing the note.

"I can't. I'm sorry, angel. But I just can't"

"You will. Your voice will go even higher if you keep practicing." I assured her. "That is all for tonight. Now off to bed. I will be there to sing you to sleep."

I followed Christine through the walls. I turned away as she dressed into her nightgown and got into bed. As promised, I sang a sweet little lullaby and lulled her to sleep.

Once I was sure that she was fast asleep, I emerged from my hiding place. I gently removed her socks and began washing her feet. They had begun to be rubbed raw by the constant dancing Giry forced her to do. I had made a habit of treating her tiny feet once a week. She would notice it when she woke up but treated it as a gift from her Angel of Music.

When I was done, I slipped her stockings back onto her feet as if I had never been there.

"Sleep soundly, my angel." I whispered and then I placed my lips to her forehead. "Tomorrow, I take you away from this place. Far away. You will no longer have to live in this place. Do not fear. You will be back in a few year. But only when you are grown up and ready to take your place in life: center stage. A prima donna. But for now...sleep. Rest yourself, my little darling."

 **Author's note: sorry for the history lesson about the French industrial revolution but that's the time era we're in if we're in the Love Never Dies universe (which we are).**


	9. Chapter 9: Nicolette

Chapter 9

True to my word, I was ready to take my Christine away from that disgusting opera house. The next night, I sunk into the ballerina dormitories and made my way straight to Christine's bed. Not wanting to wake her, or anyone else for that matter, I quietly and quickly packed up Christine's belongings into her trunk. Thankfully, Christine was a tidy little girl and most of her things were already put away. After I was finished, I gently nudged Christine.

I could tell that she was about to scream, as any person would if a black figure was hovering over your bed in the middle of the night, so I quickly put my hand over her mouth to muffle the scream.

"Hush, Christine." I whispered into her ear. "It's me. Erik. I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth and you will remain silent, understand?"

Christine nodded, her eyes still wide in either fear or shock. I removed my hand from her mouth: she remained quiet like the good girl she was.

"We're leaving here." I told her, my voice quiet. "I promised your father I would take care of you: I intend to keep that promise. Now be silent until I tell you you can talk."

I scooped up by little angel in one arm and carried her belongings in the other. I then opened up the passageway and guided us through the corridors and out of the opera house.

I walked a little ways away from the opera house before hailing a carriage.

"Rather late, don't you think?" The driver said. "It's past midnight. Kinda strange to be out this late with your daughter."

"We were at the opera." I said, not truly lying. "It went a little late. Now if you don't mind, my little girl is tired and your chatter will keep her up. Just take us to LeAnge Roux 618. Get us there within the hour and I will pay you double."

That kept the driver quiet. Christine soon fell asleep as we traveled by moonlight. The open carriage did nothing to protect us from the outside elements. However, it was a warm summer's night so there was no worry of catching a cold.

I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to take a carriage ride with my Christine in a few years. It would be rather romantic: stars shining brightly above our heads, the street lamps' candles lit, the moon reflecting on the lake.

But for now, I was just her guardian.

I would be patient.

The driver stopped at the little flat I had bought with my now successful factory. I paid the driver well and told him to remain silent about the whole thing.

I then carried my little Christine inside.

The house was larger than most. It had one floor and a basement. I had chosen the house because of its seclusion and isolation from the rest of the city. It had a decent sized yard in the front and back. I had plans to construct a magnificent garden, but currently it was filled with lifeless plants.

I carried Christine through the house and up to her room.

"Is this my room?" Christine asked timidly.

"Yes, little Christine." I said. "It's all yours."

"It looks like it belongs to a princess." Christine said, dreamily happy.

I did not see what Christine saw. The room was very boring and, in my opinion, not fit a princess let alone my Christine. But it was the best I could offer her...at the moment. The walls were colorless, not knowing what color she would want her wallpaper to be. The dresser was pristine white with new dresses and other articles of clothing neatly folded within it. The vanity table had a new hair brush and several different colored ribbons with a large mirror attached to the back. There was a decent sized closet but it was currently bare. The room had no decorations yet. I had every intent of waiting for Christine to pick out some items to be placed in her room.

There was, however, on very important item placed on her desk.

"My papa's violin." She whispered. "How...how did you find it?"

"I had to track down those gypsies." I said it as if it was no trouble at all. "Anything that belonged to your father is now in your possession. You'll find everything of his in a crate in your closet. I encourage you to look through all of it tomorrow if that is what you wish, but for now, you must go back to sleep."

Christine gave me a hug around my legs as a final thank you before heading off into her new bed. She quickly fell asleep in the soft sheets and fluffy pillows. I watched as she peacefully slept for a few moments before blowing out the single candle in the room and leaving her to enjoy her childish dreams.

…

"You must have heard of what the Phantom of the Opera did?" Nicolette asked one late summer's day.

"No, I have not." I said, wishing that the woman would just go throw herself in the river. "I don't listen to idle gossip."

"It's not gossip." She assured. "A little girl has gone missing in the dormitories."

"A little girl?" I questioned, already knowing the full story having lived it.

"Yes." She said, frightened a bit. "She went missing a few weeks ago. The police can't find her anywhere. It has to be the Phantom. You believe me, don't you?"

"I hardly believe in ghosts." I said. "While it is tragic that the girl went missing, I believe it would be better for people to focus on trying to find her among the living and not with some sort of specter."

"I guess so...but this isn't the first time it has happened."

"Do children often go missing in the Opera House?"

"No, no." Nicolette laughed a bit though I saw nothing funny at the idea of a kidnapped child. "The Phantom often terrorizes the performers and workers. Some people even claim to have seen him."

My eyes were still on my Christine who was playing with Nicolette's little brother, Ren. I despised both of them. Ren because he dared to come close to my Christine. Nicolette for her prying.

"You really love her, don't you, Erik." Nicolette said, referring to Christine.

"Of course. Who doesn't love an angel?"

"So you believe in angels but not ghosts?"

"The difference between my angel and your ghost is that I can see my angel where as your Phantom seems to like to hide."

"It's rather sweet that you refer to Christine as your angel." She said, changing the subject from Phantom's again. "The girl must love you as well."

"Love is a strong feeling: a feeling that is so rare in children." I said. "I know that she loved her father. As for me, I feel as if she could learn to love me as a guardian."

"Maybe she would love you more if you resembled a more home like environment." Nicolette suggested. "Perhaps the girl needs another female in her life. A mother figure."

"Woman, are you suggesting what I think you are I swear…"

"I am sorry if it to forward to say, but I am in love with you, Erik." Nicolette said, her cheeks blushing. "You are such a kind and protective man. You would make a great husband. I absolutely adore Christine and her to me. Don't you think she deserves a mother?"

"Nicolette, I will never marry you." I put bluntly, having no guilt of my words. "I find you annoying really. Besides, I am in love with another."

"You can't mean that." Nicolette said, aghast. "We talk every day. I felt us getting closer. I thought you felt it too."

"I felt you coming closer, I assure you." I said, a bit annoyed. "You have no sense of personal boundaries, do you, woman? I have no need of a wife at the moment and while Christine would be better off with a mother I can assure you that she will be much better off if the slot was empty than for you filling it in. Good day, Madame."

I left her, jaw dropped as if she was trying to hit a high G, and went to go fetch Christine.

I never knew what became of Nicolette. I would assume that she hated me and I hoped that she did. I honestly could care less about what happened to the wretch. Offering herself to be my wife...the nerve. I would rather be lonely for a few years and marry my Christine than marry that brat.

I can gladly say that I never saw Nicolette or Ren for most of my days. We did run into each other several years later but that is a story for another time.


End file.
